Don't Look Back

 

Marianne Faithfull in the corner

manager Albert Grossman

Donovan

Director D. A. Pennebaker

Pennebaker with Dylan

Pennebaker holding the camera

Dylan with Howard Alk on the left

Dylan with Alk

DON’T LOOK BACK           A                                                                                               USA  (96 mi)  1967  d: D.A. Pennebaker

I ain’t lookin’ to compete with you,
Beat or cheat or mistreat you,
Simplify you, classify you,
Deny, defy or crucify you...

—Bob Dylan - All I Really Want To Do (Live in Liverpool - 1965 ... outtake footage filmed by Pennebaker, YouTube (3:40)

Made during Dylan’s 1965 solo tour of England, but released in 1967, this is the definitive portrait of the artist at an early stage of his career, a time when he was still only 23, yet it’s the height of his worldwide success, where the film has become an iconic rock document, an anthem for 60’s youth culture.  Pennebaker and Chicago filmmaker Howard Alk, one of the cinematographers on the film who would later direct The Murder of Fred Hampton (1971), had unprecedented access, and a brief temporal window behind the scenes that allows viewers to just hang out with the artist for a while as he’s on the verge of becoming internationally famous, with Dylan captured onscreen as he never would be again, offering a rare emotional intimacy that no subsequent documentary has achieved.  This is a film about the 60’s as seen through the dizzying life of one of the standard-bearers of that tumultuous decade, where he is to the 60’s what Jack Kerouac and Allen Ginsberg were to the 50’s.  His Ginsberg-like stream-of-conscious words are an aggressive assault to the senses, where the meaning remains highly ambiguous, while his style is constantly changing, and his notorious avoidance of publicity borders on the obsessive, yet he remains the influential voice of the era.  One sequence that stands out, as if pulled out of time from a different era, is Ed Emshwiller footage of Dylan singing outdoors to farmhands two years earlier during a voter registration drive in the cotton fields of Greenwood, Mississippi, Dont Look Back (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Only A Pawn In Their ... YouTube (3:20), where he transitions from a younger version of himself to a live performance on this tour, mirroring the shift from folk traditions to a new terrain of rock.  Filmed during a three week concert tour in the spring of 1965, it’s not so much a documentary as it is a window into a private side of one of our more revered artists, a look behind the curtain, where his sneering intellectual arrogance on display and his disdain for others marks his turf as an insufferable egotist, yet there are throngs of admirers waiting to see him perform, where every concert is sold out.  It’s relaxed and informal, with no set format or criteria, perhaps only visualized in the editing room, which happened very quickly in a matter of weeks, displaying a remarkable gift for weaving music into the visuals so that each seemed to become indistinguishable from the other, reflective of the volcanic social and political transformations taking place during the 60’s, creating not only a revolutionary cinéma vérité approach to a road tour, but a new form of social commentary, bringing it to the mainstream, offering one of the most intimate glimpses possible of the perpetually elusive Bob Dylan.  An artist receiving the Presidential Medal of Freedom from President Obama in 2012 and who would be awarded the Nobel Prize in Literature in 2016 for his “new poetic expressions within the great American song tradition,” with literary allusions to a wide swath of notable poets and writers from Homer to Shakespeare to William Blake, Arthur Rimbaud, James Joyce, T.S. Eliot, Allen Ginsberg, and Jack Kerouac, but in the early years no one really knew what to make of him, and this gritty exposé of the good, the bad and the ugly reflects that mysterious confusion, containing a wide variety of mixed emotions.  A frustrating, puzzling, illuminating, and fleeting portrait of the artist as a young man, originally shot in black and white on handheld 16mm, with blurred grainy images of fast monochrome film, where cigarette smoke permeates every frame, much of the film takes place in a cramped hotel room at the Savoy in London, where the tight quarters only accentuate an atmosphere of intimacy, wandering around backstage, conducting interviews, meeting with fans, taking limo rides, creating a feeling of actually being there.  There is no narrative, and there are no talking heads, with no attempts to define or explain who he is, so it’s such an individualized, interior, free-associating experience that may play out differently for each individual viewer, offering an unflinching gaze into the darker corners of Dylan’s persona.  According to Pennebaker, “Dylan is an interesting person to watch because he is constantly creating himself, and then standing back and trying to witness it,” while according to Dylan, “What happened, [in the sixties] happened so fast, that people are still trying to figure it out.”  You may be able to recognize Joan Baez, Marianne Faithfull, Donovan, former Animals organist Alan Price just after he left the group, that’s him on The Animals - House of the Rising Sun (1964) + clip comp. 60 ... YouTube (4:32), Dylan’s relentlessly aggressive, über manager Albert Grossman (the film is actually his idea), and Beat poet Allen Ginsberg by sight, where there is nothing to identify them otherwise, as they simply appear onscreen, part of the mosaic of intermingling personalities that comprise this film.   

This remarkable film was added to the National Film Registry in 1998, while in 2021 Rolling Stone magazine listed this as the #1 music documentary of all time, 70 Greatest Music Documentaries of All Time, described as an “obvious cultural reference point” and a “permanent blueprint for the public’s image of mid-Sixties rock & roll.”  It bears some resemblance to the weirdly scripted comedy of Richard Lester’s A HARD DAY’S NIGHT (1964), shot during the height of Beatlemania and coinciding with a world tour, where fans besieged their hotels, stole various items for souvenirs, and chased them around London.  Here wildly enthusiastic fangirls are waving to Dylan outside his hotel, hopelessly trying to get his attention, screaming with delight at any sign of him.  What distinguishes this film from other musical documentaries is that this is not a concert film, as none of the songs play out in full, which is actually the film’s biggest criticism, but it’s not that kind of film, where it’s more about the intangible moments in between the songs, with Dylan interacting with the press, hotel personnel, or other friends and musicians paying him a visit, occasionally breaking out in song.  One thing that stands out is that he is defiantly contrarian, not willingly agreeing with anyone, continually finding an antagonistic point of view, yet what’s fascinating is how he sees himself during this momentous period of his life, regarding it all suspiciously, where we literally watch him reading articles written about him, and then reacts as only Bob Dylan can, as he obviously gets a kick out of seeing himself in the news.  When Dylan reads an article that describes him as “puffing heavily on his cigarette, he smokes eighty a day,” he hilariously responds, “God, I’m glad I’m not me.”  Not just a songwriter and musician, but Dylan is also a poet, who attracted the interest of other poets, including fellow musician/poet Patti Smith, who has talked about the impact both Dylan and the film had on her as a young, struggling artist in New York, as she “related to everything he did, his magnetism and sexual energy.  He was nobody’s patsy,” something she describes as “the hubris of youth,” Patti Smith on Bob Dylan and DONT LOOK BACK YouTube (14:01).  This would be Dylan’s final acoustic tour, coming just after he released Bringing It All Back Home, as he began to move away from the folk movement from which he’d emerged, where the first side is all electric, while the second side is all acoustic, becoming his first album to incorporate electric instrumentation.  When he returned to England in 1966 it was for the electric tour that caused one outraged fan who felt so betrayed he shouted out “Judas,” a legendary moment of instantaneous frustration that pretty much defines his career evolution, as he continually evolves into new musical forms, never repeating any song the same way twice.  Curiously, according to photographer Daniel Kramer, who was sent to photograph him, finding him completely uncooperative, he rarely even plays the guitar except when performing.  The film hasn’t aged a bit, and feels as modern and timeless today as it was when it was released, offering a compelling critique of an intrusive media that can completely misunderstand its subjects through their own bias, yet still print distortions and inaccuracies anyway.  Pennebaker’s restless camerawork is perfectly suited for Dylan’s chameleon-like persona, never really answering any of the interviewers questions, typically turning the questions back around on them, often seen hiding behind his everpresent dark sunglasses that he strangely wears indoors, where you may not like him, but he’s very human, as openly flawed as the rest of us.  The title comes from Satchel Paige, the ageless Negro League baseball pitcher who famously remarked, “Don’t look back.  Someone might be gaining on you,” with Dylan offering his own retort, “He not busy being born is busy dying,” and since he so thoroughly carries the film, the focal point of every single second, he describes the film as Pennebaker by Dylan.  The opening two-and-a-half minutes is an improvisational music video (with some calling it the first) promotion for Dylan’s first Billboard-landing single and electric rock anthem, Subterranean Homesick Blues, Bob Dylan - Subterranean Homesick Blues (Official HD Video) YouTube (2:15), with Dylan fumbling through a series of cue cards that he drops to the ground after the words are sung, a shorthand for his momentous lyrics, which sets the tone for what follows, with an unidentified Allen Ginsberg in the background, where he and Kerouac used to refer to themselves as “subterraneans,” the title of a 1958 book by Kerouac, where there is an audio recording of him reading a passage from the book, Jack Kerouac Reads From 'The Subterraneans' (1958) YouTube (3:14).

Dylan’s snarly and petulant attitude, particularly with clueless reporters, may have simply been a defense mechanism against the overexposure in newspapers and magazines, where his music was as overplayed on the radio as the Beatles, because commercial radio loves repetition, elevating him to a Godlike status, which he shied away from, so his automatic impulses shut down those questions while making fun of just how ridiculous the situation was that he found himself in, literally jousting with reporters, viewing them as comic relief, Dont Look Back (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Lies And Rubbish YouTube (3:45), where people were asking him everything imaginable, no matter how personal or inappropriate, and then writing whatever the hell they pleased, often using broad, encompassing labels to describe him.  So there are moments when he’s being spectacularly obnoxious towards others, a real jerk, as if he couldn’t care less about them, using acerbic sarcasm as a weapon, yet he also has some indescribable endearing quality, where he seems genuinely authentic and quite comfortable just being himself.  Mixed altogether in a musical collage, we’re privy to a constantly changing mindset that offers an exemplary view of all the contradictions he was constantly dealing with, where it’s impressive that a document like this even exists, as we rarely get behind the façade of great artists, but this one really expresses all the adrenaline-laced, sped-up confusion wrapped up in the meticulously documented, jagged edges of the experience, with Dylan acutely aware that a camera is always on him, where every moment is a performance, yet this may also be who he really is, making things up as he goes along, like looking in a mirror at yourself while real life is happening, where you have to wonder at times if that guy you’re looking at is even you.  In a bewildering moment that comes out of nowhere, all hell breaks loose when Dylan throws an angry tantrum after learning someone threw a glass bottle out the window, causing all sorts of pandemonium mixed with an air of late night drunken revelry, Bob Dylan hotel argument about throwing glass in the street YouTube (2:59).  Lost among the barrage of Dylan clips is an extremely raw and revealing moment with Alan Price, coming at a particularly vulnerable time for an extremely talented artist, having left The Animals under questionable circumstances, where alcohol may have played a role, and while he’s barely onscreen except for a few moments, they are tinged with giddiness turning to heartbreak, where the instantly changing mood becomes something of a subplot for the film.  Dylan’s unidentified right hand man and friendly soulmate is his road manager Bob Neuwirth, a partner in crime with a long and influential association with Dylan, who is with him throughout this film, often acting as a sounding board, both cracking up over the enthusiastic press coverage of Donovan, described by the press as “England’s answer to Bob Dylan,” which becomes a running joke in the film, where his press clippings adorn the hotel mirrors and a concert poster appears in the hotel room draped across a couch, but they’re generally on the same wavelength, Bob Dylan and Bobby Neuwirth YouTube (47 seconds).  Joan Baez makes an early appearance and then disappears, something she has described as “the most demoralizing experience of my life,” apparently having enough of this self-obsessed Dylan guy, but she sings a beautiful song, Dont Look Back (1967) -- (Movie Clip) Percy's Song, Etc. YouTube (3:57), while Dylan completely ignores her, back turned, typing away on his reportedly amphetamine-fueled experimental novel Tarantula, released several years later, which baffled his critics and left his fans scratching their heads, while in this same sequence Marianne Faithfull can be seen tucked away in a corner, never saying a word.  Donovan actually appears in the hotel room and sings a nice, conventional folk song, Donovan - To Sing for You, Bob Dylan - It's All Over Now Baby ... YouTube (4:05), with Dylan watching nervously until Donovan asks if he’d give an impromptu performance of It’s All Over Now, Baby Blue, which is endearing and seems especially personalized, yet the coup de grâce may actually be an unused outtake from one of Dylan’s most sublimely gorgeous love songs, filled with symbolist wordplay, Bob Dylan - Love Minus Zero/No Limit (Live at Savoy Hotel 1965) [HD FOOTAGE] YouTube (3:42), a snippet of which played in concert closes the film.  It’s fair to say Donovan was one-upped here, and was likely overwhelmed by Dylan in a take no prisoners mode, where there was simply no one else like him in the entire universe.  Not an easy man to get along with, yet this film graces the screen with rare moments of down time, when he had time to kill, preparing for the actual moments when he would take the stage, as this entire film is a lead-in to that combustible moment when Dylan set the world on fire.

Born to Be Blue

Chet Baker, 1953

 

Chet Baker with Miles Davis and Rolf Erickson, 1952

 

BORN TO BE BLUE                  B-              

USA  Great Britain  Canada  (97 mi)  2015  d:  Robert Budreau

So please forgive this helpless haze I’m in

There is a dearth of good films about legendary jazz musicians, where only Bertrand Tavernier’s ROUND MIDNIGHT (1986) and Clint Eastwood’s BIRD (1988) come to mind, as they all seem to get lost in overreaching melodramatic stories that overlook the obvious impact of race and drugs while refraining from telling the stories with any degree of authenticity or social realism.  This film is no different, unfortunately, as it never really places the life of jazz trumpeter Chet Baker in its appropriate setting, shying away from the origins of the West Coast jazz scene in the late 40’s and 50’s, featuring the likes of white musicians Stan Getz, Jerry Mulligan, Chet Baker, Paul Desmond, Dave Brubeck, and Art Pepper, which still remains a separate entity from the mecca that is New York, the home of more prominently known black musicians Duke Ellington, Charlie Parker, Dizzy Gillespie, Thelonious Monk, and Miles Davis.  This film doesn’t really get into that, though it’s at the heart of the untold story.  Instead, written and directed by Budreau, it reimagines Baker’s troubled life using a less interesting, more conventional romantic narrative surrounding the complexities of the man with a horn’s love interest, combining at least three wives and several girlfriends into a single character, turning this into a relatively safe interracial love story that surprisingly never even explores the racial aspects.  While confining the story to just a few years from the mid 60’s when Chet Baker disappeared from the music scene, it traces the origins to a lengthy incarceration in Italy for drug offenses that led to a severe beating over a drug debt that left his front teeth broken, requiring reconstructive surgery and dentures, where the time off was needed to relearn how to play with dentures.  During this down time, the film consolidates his life through frequent flashback sequences either in tinted, washed-out color or black and white imagery.  In the process the film fictionalizes his life, always a worrisome technique, as it willingly adheres to the Hollywood mold.    

What’s completely missing is the early 50’s success, where Baker’s good looks made him the “James Dean” of jazz, developing screaming female groupies while earning such adulation that he was voted the #1 jazz trumpeter by readers over the more widely acclaimed Miles Davis in consecutive polls by Downbeat magazine in 1953 and 1954, DownBeat Readers Poll Archive.  Instead, the film picks up in the middle of his career where he’s already famous, as he’s pulled out of an Italian prison to include him in a movie, a film within a film where art imitates life, as it’s on the set in a movie about his life (that was eventually abandoned by Dino de Laurentiis) that Chet Baker (Ethan Hawke) meets the actress playing his wife Jane Azuka, Carmen Ejogo, who played Coretta Scott King in Selma (2014).  After displaying initial resistance, they go on a bowling date where she finally succumbs to his charms, as she literally melts in his arms when he sings her “I’ve Never Been in Love Before” Chet Baker - I've Never Been In Love Before - YouTube (4:28), which bookends their relationship and may as well be their theme song, as the utter sincerity of their commitment remains intricately connected to the song.  While she’s very much her own person, well-educated, a trained jazz pianist and vocalist to go along with her method acting skills, both have highly individualistic bohemian tendencies leftover from the Beat Generation movement of the 50’s, where their whirlwind interracial romance in many respects parallels the Jack Kerouac novel The Subterraneans, published immediately after On the Road in 1958.  Considering her intelligence, what’s missing is any commitment to social activism, as there is no reference whatsoever to the social unrest caused by the civil rights, feminist, and anti-war movements that dominated the news during that era.   Instead there are flashback sequences to Baker playing at Birdland in New York, meeting a scowling young Miles Davis (Kedar Brown) who condescendedly dismisses his playing as “sweet, like candy,” asking Jane if this is her “Great White Hope,” before telling him to come back in a few years after he’s “lived a little,” words that he takes to heart, as he’s seen immediately afterwards mainlining heroin with a local girl who supposedly turns him on for the first time.  Ironically, it was Baker’s quick ascension in jazz circles, using techniques obviously inspired by Miles himself, that so angered Davis he was finally motivated to quit his heroin dependency.    

With an injured jazz player on the mend unable to play, the two play house for a good deal of the film, much of it spent in an isolated trailer situated on an idyllic cliff overlooking the ocean, like homesteaders in love, offering a romanticized and dreamlike quality to the film, where he could practice to the rhythms of the waves while attempting to regain some semblance of sanity and sobriety with the constant encouragement of Jane, who happens to believe that the feelings people have when they’re in love should be their natural state of being.  This elevated state of existence works in a vacuum, lovers in a secret hideaway far from the maddening world, where there’s a curious dichotomy taking place, as the lure of the bright lights are everpresent, even from a distance, as Baker thinks of nothing but making a comeback.  While the film is largely seen through her eyes, viewing Baker in all his glory, warts and all, where his single-minded obsession is returning to a life in music, it also doesn’t sugar coat his addictive habits, where he has to remain straight as a condition of his parole.  There’s an interesting side trip to his parent’s farm in Yale, Oklahoma where they spend some down time, reviving decades old personal feuds with his straight-laced father (Stephen McHattie), still bitter about how his drug arrests have dragged the family name through the mud.   With an ocean of personal dissent between them, the visit is quickly aborted, returning to their home on the beach where Baker starts performing in tiny venues, like a local pizza establishment, starting out a nobody, but quickly building up a following.  There are, of course, obstacles in his path, where his pesky parole officer (Tony Napo) hounds him to find a regular job, constantly threatening to send him back to prison, where in a melodramatic swoon, Baker actually suggests this kind of harassment is what led to the death of Billie Holiday.  Even if true, this is amateurishly handled and feels more like name dropping, diminishing the seriousness of the accusation to a near laughable moment.  Driven to get back into the recording business, he gets an opportunity to perform for a room full of influential producers, playing the intimately personal Chet Baker - My Funny Valentine YouTube (2:19), sung directly to Jane in one of the more poignant scenes of the film.  This sets the stage for a new chapter, giving him the opportunity to return to Birdland, where the world seemingly awaits. While the film is a well-acted, impressionistic attempt to explore the intimate side of a jazz legend, evoked through a diverse series of scenes at beaches, in café’s, apartments, recording studios, and even film sets, it typically uses the standard comeback story methodology, which feels diluted, where unfortunately there isn’t a single note heard by the original artist, instead his solos are replayed note for note in a similar style, which feels like an essential missing component.  Hawke does a credible job singing in the manner of Baker, but the film shortchanges the audience by leaving out any traces of the real thing.